Childhood
by TanuKyle
Summary: What if Orochimaru had never been revealed as a traitor? What if he took Naruto in as a child, the village murmuring about demon children and the niceness of the Sannin. What if?  AUish, Disturbing, a little fragmented.


If you're reading this because you want a typical abuse story, **stop here**. If you're reading this because you want to know the fate of that demon-kid who you hated then **stop here**. And if worst of all, if you're a friend of my 'dad's, then **stop here**. This story is not for you. This story is for the public. All those who were entranced, deceived by his lies, his smooth voice, and the dripping, poisonous power of his justu and chakra.

That's one thing I can't dispute about my father. He was an amazing ninja in terms of power, and he had an amazing power over people – I mean, look at me. He could make even the most nervous of subjects a competent experiment, and the nicest person seem menacing. Like our photos. I was his favourite subject for those photos. The dark ones. The ones he never shared with anyone, even his most trusted 'friends'. Only me. And sometimes his new husband.

Not however, that I was the nicest kid in the world. At first, I thought it was normal, or just a game, when my dad watched me shower, when he insisted on scrubbing me thoroughly, and I mean thoroughly. I just presumed it was his way of showing he cared. Even when he pinched me gently, I just thought it was a show of affection. It was embarrassing, sure! The other 13 year old boys talked about jacking off the shower, and fantasies about girls, and seeing their friend's older sister semi-naked…and here I was, still having my cock, no...I would have called it a willy at that stage, washed by my father. Mind you, I was always different from them. They always kept a distance from me that I never understood. Demon-child, they whispered. I never understood.

The first real incident came a couple of months before Christmas, and a couple of months after my thirteenth birthday. I came home to what I though was an empty house, my pants throbbing. We had just had and explicit sexual education lesson, where we studied a video of nude people to learn about genitalia. There were, of course, nude women in it. The girls had giggled, averting their eyes, whilst the boys had sat glued to the screen, me included. Either way, I was turned on and hard, though I wouldn't learn those words for a couple of months yet, and so I decided to take a cold shower to relieve myself.

The water hit like tiny pinpricks across my skin, raising goosebumps and not alleviating my…condition one single bit. So I thought. Everyone was always on about it, jacking off I mean. Why not, y'know, have a go. I was an 'innocent' kid, to the eyes of myself but not the world, and I had never touched myself. No, my attention was busied by avoiding the punches aimed my way by others. So, as my hand strayed between my legs, the simplest of touches had me moaning, and as I gently formed my hand into a curl around my genitals, I groaned louder, causing my hand to clench tight, which sent a spasm through my spine.

I've always been a bit of a sadomasochist. Not severely or anything like that, but I do enjoy the odd bit of sexual pain, and I don't mind inflicting it either, as long as the other person enjoys it. The only person I've ever really wanted to hurt? My father. Soon enough, you'll find out why. As I looked up, I was shocked. There in the doorway was my dad, meant to be at work, instead standing there, watching me with my hand around my cock – no. Willy. As my erection screamed to be released, my dad walked over, and opened the shower door. My eyes were wide with fear – what was he going to do? Yell at me? No. Although I didn't understand it then, what he was going to do was much worse.

He spoke, in that smooth, reassuring voice that had women – and quite a few men, bending to his every whim. It sent a shiver through my spine. He had always had a vaguely sexual, womanish voice.

"That's not how you do it Na-ru-to. Let me show you."

He lingered on my name, snake-like eyes taking in the spiral on my stomach, which almost pointed to the erection below. It was throbbing wildly, like fire on my belly. But I didn't know what that meant either..yet.

"W-what?"  
he reached out, his rough hand touching my genitals. His warm digits felt so much better than my cold ones. I couldn't help but buck into his touch. Although I didn't notice it then, a smirk flickered across his own face, and his own pants were distinctly tight. He began to move his fingers, curling them around my shaft, up and down, up and down. The rest of that memory fades into a blur of pleasure, the very first time I came. I wouldn't know that word for a while yet either.

I knew it a couple of months later. We had had those…sessions for a while now, and it had even progressed to my father sucking me off. That felt even better, especially when he swallowed my ejaculation. He said it tasted saltily sweet, when I finally plucked up the courage to ask. But this time, it was different. It was after Christmas, some time in the new year. That year, Christmas had been sparse. My dad was lacking in jobs, and my other father, then heavy with child, was having to do multiple jobs to keep us going. I was old enough not to scream and cry when my stocking was filled with cheap nastiness that broke in a couple of days, or tasted nothing like it was supposed to. Or even my new set of kunai, which I had longed for for ages, was second hand and rusty.

"A lick of paint 'll sort that out, Naru." My other father said. It never did get painted. By the time we had money again, I had grown up too far, too fast to play ninja anymore. It wasn't as if I would ever get anywhere with it. No. Whilst at a young age, I was allowed to go to the academy, in the past few years the teachers had been cold. Withdrawn. They wouldn't help me with anything. And so I dropped out. The…incident hadn't helped either. But anyway, I digress, I am being distracted.

This time, he wanted me to touch him.  
"W-what?" I asked tentatively.

"You heard me. Just like I do you. Silver's out, noone 'll know." He might have been my 'father', but to me, he was always Silver, or Beetle-san. Even if he had only been around a year. I couldn't remember anyone else, except for flashes of song and a fine touch. And piercing red eyes that swimmed with sadness. He left when I was five. My dad always said he died. I think he left because of the way he looked at her. He looked the same way. Predatorily. Hungrily. It was scary. I couldn't very well deny the object of my pleasure, so tentatively I got onto my knees, and shakily undid the zipper. He wasn't wearing any pants. His willy hung out before me, so much larger and thicker then my prepubescent shaft. It was already standing to attention. His little soldier, he jokily called it. But now, he wasn't in the mood for jokes.  
"Touch it. Now." His voice, once so smooth and womanly, was rough and husky – he had been suffering from a throat infection, or so he said. Later I would find out the real reason. I reached out a hand, slowly, oh so slowly. He grabbed it, making me jump, and brought it to his shaft, curling my fingers forcefully around it. "Now pump, boyo." I did. He didn't come as easily as I did, holding out with some restraint.  
"Now, suck me." I blinked, blue eyes rife with confusion.  
"You heard me. Lick, nibble, suck me off." I soon guessed what it meant. I hesitantly followed his instructions, obedient to the end. But as his willy pulsed in my mouth, I instinctively pulled back, my father coming all over my face. I stood there, shocked, his semen dripping off me, and he took a photo of that face. I doubt you've seen it though. I doubt anyone has.

The next time, we went all the way. He didn't even bother with preparation. I came home from training one day, and he yanked down my pants, and began to suck me hard. Soon enough, I was begging for release.  
"Please dad, please!" I begged. But he would do nothing. Flipping me over, he pinned me against the wall. Now I was scared.  
"D-dad?" He said nothing, only the sound of unzipping came. I didn't know what he was doing- how could I? Fire didn't accept those things! Jeez, Konoha didn't even accept they existed! So when he plunged into me, hard and fast, I screamed. A terrible, searing pain, ripping and tearing through my insides. I sobbed, pleaded, begged, anything to stop this pain. But it faded in a couple of minutes, minutes of horrible silence. Replaced by some strange, masochistic pleasure. Soon enough, I began to move my hips, oddly entranced by this feeling. Then, he hit my spot. I yelled in pleasure, spattering the hallway with my cum. I had learned that word by now. My dad had already got me to 'talk dirty' as it were. Then, he came. I never quite got used to that feeling of cum in my insides, filling my rectum. The first time, it felt odd, odder still as it seeped out throughout the night, staining my underwear. I was so ashamed, I burnt them. I still knew a few basic jutsu from the academy days.

That wasn't all. It progressed to bondage, sadism, tying my up and suspending me. He even once tied me up and fucked me upside-down. He was a twisted soul. But then again. So am I. Not in the same we he was. No. I sit here, now. Writing my story from inside a cell. Not that they call it a cell. No. It is "Your room." I'm even allowed to stick things up on the wall. With non-toxic blutack of course. Wouldn't want me to off myself with a pin, or toxic substances, now would we. And there's chakra-seals everywhere. Kyuubi can't even flash on my stomach. Though my eyes are red still. The few times I manage to hear my demon, he jokes about them being stained with my family's blood.

I'll be surprised if this thing gets published. They'll write it off as the delusions of a crazy demon-child. If I am crazy, if Kyuubi isn't real – which he is by the way, then it's his fault. He's the one who made me like this. Cause fuck.

Noone ever told me. That being mad was this fucking fun. I can scream. I can bounce around, and it doesn't hurt, in this padded room. I can slam my head repeatedly into the wall, to stop them saying things. I can even gabble on to the other patients, the one's who just stare off into space, and really feel, for once in my life, that someone's listening to me.

The psychocrapist don't listen. Or Danzo, as he tells us to call him. To me, he'll always be doctor scum. He interrupts, saying things like, are you sure this happened, or is this the voices telling you this? I hate that. The way he calls them voices. He downgrades them. He's not a voice, he's a demon, along with his friends. A little tiny community inside my head. There's Kyuubi, and Shukaku, and Nibi, and all the others who live there. They even have their own system to collect their food. They eat my brain you see. They're very clever though. They tell me. They only eat the bits of it that I don't need. Like the jutsu. Or chakra control. They leave me the swearwords though. That's another great thing. I can swear so loud, scream at the nurses, and they don't retaliate, just ask me to calm down. I laugh. Calm? I haven't been calm, I haven't been safe, since I was twelve. After that, my father ruined any chance of the feeling of safety I ever had. It was my teacher, the only one who would teach me, who committed me here, after I told her about dad. She didn't believe me. The fact I told her about the community inside my head, and the fact that by then, I was so out of it I could barely talk probably had something to do with it. Or the fact that: "The Great Sannin would never do something like that!"

That's something else my father has gifted me with. My psychologist, Doctor Scum, says I have problems with reality. I laugh, and tell him that's certainly true. I tell the truth, and everyone else lies. So, I space myself out, making up complex storeis, alternate universes. Anything to get me out of here. He says I should stay where I am. Actually, he's saying that now coincidentally. Yelling it actually, along with the ninja, the ANBU, who are telling me they'll get me down. I can down myself. Kyuubi has promised me I'll be free after that. And for the first time in years, I am surrounded by orange, bubbling in joy and fury, and my seal is throbbing.

I can get down myself, from this stone edge. Into that elaborate trap, full of spikes and kunai and shuriken and beautiful pain.

I can get down myself.

All I have to do, is _**jump**_.


End file.
